


Paragon

by Wildgoosery



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV), Mass Effect
Genre: Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, just go with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8578522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildgoosery/pseuds/Wildgoosery
Summary: Commander Shepard and Brienne of Tarth walk into a tavern; Shepard decides they're going to leave together.





	

Brienne has long regarded her virginity as the cornerstone of her virtue. In order to serve, she must be worthy, and in order to be worthy, she must remain pure -- in spirit, in body, in all that she does.

Shepard's virtue is obvious to anyone paying attention -- she practically glows with it. Not since Renley has Brienne met a person so sure of their place on the right side of history.

Like Renley, Shepard is a downward slope, a beacon of charm and optimism which draws a person toward her. 

And like Renley, she is absolutely not a virgin.

"We could go back to my place," she's saying now in a low, ale-thickened rumble. "Get that armor off of you."

Brienne's eyes are fixed on the empty cup in her hands. "You're wasting your time."

Shepard bumps her with a shoulder, ceramic and steel clinking in a toast to whatever bad decisions they're both about to make. "You trying to let me down easy?" 

"I'm trying to save you the disappointment," Brienne says, terse with embarrassment.

“Look, Brienne..." Shepard smiles and leans even closer. "Can I call you Brienne?"

"If you must."

"My last two lovers were a blue woman with tentacles for hair and a lizard-bird man with an exoskeleton. Whatever’s going on under this," and here she knocks Brienne's chest plate with her knuckles, "I think I can handle it."

Brienne can fight her way through a wall of men, wounded and one-handed. She can ride for days without sleep or food.

She cannot figure out where to put her hands when Shepard leans in to kiss her. 

Shepard's cabin is unlike anything Brienne has seen or heard of, and on another day she might have commented upon it. Why no windows? Who opens the doors? How had the walls been painted with light, and what unseen musicians were playing that soft, strange melody?

Shepard's armor is left in a trail across the room. When Brienne's nervous hands fumble on buckles and stiff leather, Shepard laughs and brushes her fingers aside. Her breath is warm against Brienne's ear.

"This is a mistake," Brienne whispers. "I shouldn't be here."

Shepard pauses in her work. "Do you want to be here?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course," she says, and her befuddled earnestness is what undoes Brienne at last. 

They both wear their histories on their skin, accounts of old battles scrawled in the jagged handwriting of scars. Shepard exclaims over Brienne's arms, over the sharp angles of her hip bones, over the hard plateau of her stomach. 

Shepard kisses her, slow and wet and eager, and reaches down between them. Her fingers dip into the well of Brienne's desire, exploring the warm, deep places which she has always forbidden herself.

The wave of her pleasure crests and breaks, and her body arcs up off of the bed. Shepard's hand is still inside her, soft lips against her cheek. "You're so good," Shepard murmurs. 

Shepard is so good.

**Author's Note:**

> The Weirdest Freelance Job I've Ever Had, Part 1


End file.
